PIECE I WROTE (LIVING)
not sure where to post or what it would even be classed as
opinions welcome -
LIVING -
For me, living is a feeling of constant yearning for something that doesn’t exist. I truly think no matter what I do or have, I'll never be able to find any sort of satisfaction from living. I find myself stuck between two sides: a brain that sabotages itself with a constant barrage and a mind that’s longing for the opposite. I do wonder why they must both be on the attack. For this war has gone on for so long, I no longer know which actor is which. One side begs for peace, while the other holds it for a ransom that can never be paid - perhaps this troublesome aching is the result of many different lives that wish to lead but cannot. They say you must love yourself to be loved, but that is like opening a door to an empty room. How can you see anything when your own existence is blind? Each time I feel I have found a sliver of hope, this head of mine - this tireless cockroach - convinces me that there was nothing there. I feel like if I ever want to show the deepest love for myself, then one day when the time finally comes I may be able for the first time - be truly selfish.